


you made it through (but nevertheless)

by KelseyO



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, Gen, Untie Carmilla 2k14, don't even look at me, i just really wanted laura to be the one to untie her okay, mostly just hurt/comfort fluff, takes place during episode 21
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-14
Updated: 2014-10-14
Packaged: 2018-02-21 04:54:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2455475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KelseyO/pseuds/KelseyO
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Are you…?” she begins quietly, and the tendons in Carmilla’s neck are taut. “Is it the storm?”</p>
<p>Carmilla doesn’t open her eyes. “I spent seventy years trapped beneath the earth with the sounds of war as my only company. I’m now bound to a desk chair as profoundly violent explosions roar through the sky.” She swallows and finally looks at Laura. “So yes, it’s the storm.”</p>
<p>(Set during episode 21. Inspired by the fic "storms" by majesticmcold. Title from "Lights and Sounds" by Yellowcard.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	you made it through (but nevertheless)

**Author's Note:**

> I woke up this morning and read "storms" by majesticmcold, who blew my mind with the idea of Carmilla hating thunder, so I wrote a storm into episode 21 to see what would happen. All headcanon credit goes to them.

She’s already forgotten what she was dreaming about by the time she rolls over, so she’s not quite sure why exactly she mumbles something about Carmilla turning off the TV, but then a flash of lightning obliterates the darkness for a split second and now she’s officially awake.

“Sure, buttercup,” Carmilla mutters, “let me just use my special vampire powers to manipulate technology, as special vampire powers do. Unless of course you want to duct tape a remote to the other side of my chest.”

Laura stretches. “Never mind, I think I was—” A deafening round of thunder cuts her off, and she thinks she sees Carmilla flinch, but it’s probably just a trick of the light. “...dreaming,” she finishes, then glances at the clock. “How long has the storm been going on?”

“A few hours.”

Carmilla’s tone is tighter than usual, like when Laura found out she’d actually been hitting on her, and she squints through sleep-weighted eyelids to where Carmilla is… possibly shaking? “Are you out of blood?” she asks, pulling back her covers and swinging her legs over the mattress. “I’m so sorry, I should’ve checked to see if you needed a refill before I went to sleep.” Another series of booms accompanies her journey across the room to get Carmilla’s blood stash, and she doesn’t realize Carmilla is speaking to her until she sees her face.

“… _told_ you, I’m not hungry,” she snaps as the rumbles finally die down.

Laura sets the blood bag on her desk (but keeps it a respectable distance away from her cookies) and perches on the edge of Carmilla’s bed, studying Carmilla’s face as the computer screen illuminates her deep, measured inhales and exhales. “What’s wrong?”

Carmilla’s jaw muscle visibly clenches. “Just go back to bed. I’ll be fine.”

She opens her mouth to protest but the sky does it for her; an absurdly loud crack of thunder seems to have the entire building vibrating, and when Laura looks at Carmilla again, her eyes are squeezed shut.

“Are you…?” she begins quietly, and the tendons in Carmilla’s neck are taut. “Is it the storm?”

Carmilla doesn’t open her eyes. “I spent seventy years trapped beneath the earth with the sounds of war as my only company. I’m now bound to a desk chair as profoundly violent explosions roar through the sky.” She swallows and finally looks at Laura. “So yes, it’s the storm.”

Laura nibbles her bottom lip. “If I untied you, would you feel better?”

She shrugs a shoulder as well as the ropes will allow her to. “Would you still feel safe?”

Laura doesn’t answer, just moves to crouch behind Carmilla and works to undo Danny’s knot (the six-syllable name of which she can neither pronounce nor remember), and when the ropes go slack, Carmilla immediately folds her arms tightly across her chest but otherwise remains rigid in the chair.

“You can, like, get up,” Laura says as Carmilla flinches away from another boom. “If you want.”

Carmilla nods a little and then she’s on her bed before Laura can blink, her back against the wall and her knees pulled up to her chin.

“I don’t suppose there’s a dried bat-wing charm for PTSD?”

“No,” Carmilla mutters, her gaze flickering to Laura’s side of the room before she returns to staring at the floor, “there isn’t.”

Laura glances at her bed, trying to figure out what Carmilla was looking at, then sees her yellow pillow squeezed between the mattress and the wall. After one more glance at Carmilla she walks over and pulls the pillow free, and when she holds it out to Carmilla, she doesn’t think she’s seen a more baffled expression on Carmilla’s face.

“You steal it often enough,” Laura explains. “You might as well formally borrow it for once.”

Carmilla’s still staring at her. “You’ve held me hostage for nine days, and now you’re giving me your pillow.”

Laura shrugs. “Probably not the strangest thing to ever happen at Silas University.”

A deafening rumble makes Carmilla jump and she takes the pillow without further hesitation, carefully tucking it against her torso and tilting her head down like she’s smelling a bouquet of flowers, and Laura watches her take a slow, deep breath in and out. “Thank you,” she murmurs.

“Just remember that I said _borrow_ ,” Laura replies with a hint of a smile. She turns away to grab another pillow and her extra blanket, then brings them to where Carmilla’s sitting and begins to arrange herself at the foot of Carmilla’s bed.

“What are you doing?”

“I can’t make the noises go away,” Laura says, setting her pillow near Carmilla’s hip, “but now that we’ve taken care of the confinement part… I figure the alone-ness couldn’t have been fun, either.” She lies down and curls into a ball, pulling the blanket over her and closing her eyes. “Goodnight.”

“Debatable,” Carmilla mutters.

Another massive crack of thunder makes the windows rattle and Laura can tell without looking that Carmilla’s still not even a little bit relaxed; she reaches out from under her blanket until she feels the hem of Carmilla’s pant-leg against her fingertips, then gives the material a gentle tug and leaves her hand palm-up against Carmilla’s comforter.

It takes one more thunderclap before a trembling hand finally clamps around her own. “Goodnight,” she repeats, a little softer this time as she begins to doze off again.

Maybe Carmilla shifts just a fraction closer, or maybe it’s her imagination.

“Goodnight, creampuff,” Carmilla whispers.


End file.
